


The Road to Nowhere

by lemotmo



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: All Human!AU, Cowboy!AU, John and Rodney meeting as children, M/M, Stargate Atlantis AU, Wild West!AU, Wraith!gang, brief John/Elizabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemotmo/pseuds/lemotmo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>1853, Boston. On a beautiful Spring day, eleven year old Rodney McKay's world falls to pieces.  At the same time, that day marks the beginning of an adventure that will bring him more then he ever imagined, and that will eventually lead him back to Boston, where everything will come full circle</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the process of transferring my best fics from Livejournal to this Ao3 account. As I read the stories again, I can clearly see the way my writing-style has changed (for the better) over the years. However, I have decided to leave the fics as they are. Each story clearly reflects the way I looked upon the world at the moment of writing. I kinda like that.
> 
>  **This story is a repost from a fic written in March 2007**.
> 
> The art for this fic is created by moxie_brown. She created this totally amazing cover that is posted above the story. She also made a second piece of art, a map of our team's journey through the Wild West. Go [here](http://community.livejournal.com/artword/21696.html) to admire this wonderful piece of fanart.

**BOSTON, Massachusetts**

** June, 1853 **

Rodney knows exactly –to the millisecond- when his future changed from _promising, brilliant and great potential_ to _wasted, overrated and lost cause_.

That day, there were no big cataclysmic changes, the apocalypse didn’t strike Earth and God didn’t swoop down from the Heavens to teach his wayward children a lesson. No. Nothing like that at all. It was just another ordinary Spring day in Boston. One stupid accident and just like that— POOF. His future and -no doubt- amazing, and up until that point, non-existent career (because he was only eleven at the time) as a scientist went out of the window, without even as much as a wistful goodbye.

His name wouldn’t be Rodney McKay if he didn’t resent whoever was in charge up there just a little for taking away his only chance at everlasting glory. Okay, maybe he resented a lot, but only because clearly, this God person had no idea how important his ideas could have been for humanity.

And it wasn’t like it was just him who had noticed his genius. No. He still remembers how Miss Betty Fletcher, his teacher – _and she might not have been the brightest of the bunch, but she had earned her degree to teach, so she was a viable judge_ \- approached his parents at the market one morning, waxing poetic about how brilliant their son was and how he would grow up to do great things, if – _he still doesn’t quite know what earned him that last remark_ \- he learned to be a little more sociable and less stubborn.

That day is still etched in his mind’s eye. The clear look of pride his father sent him as he quickly glanced down at Rodney. His mother’s gentle smile and the way she hugged him a little closer as if to protect him from that world for a little longer.

He was only four back then, but it didn’t stop him from dreaming.

He dreamt about books and education. Large study halls where he could absorb knowledge like a sponge soaked up water. Oh, he would have loved to listen to professors sharing the wealth of their minds. And he could see it in front of him— how he would have gone on to invent a new kind of Physics, shocking the whole scientific world with his new, daring and bold ideas.

What a dream it was.

And a _dream_ is exactly what it turned out to be, because on that bright sunny Spring day he and his sister, Jeannie, were playing outside. It was in the middle of the afternoon and too hot to sit out in plain sunlight. Rodney had never liked the sun with its ability to scorch his fair skin to blisters, so he and his sister had sought refuge in the shadows at the back of their house.

The day had started out so well, as Rodney had got up that morning in an exceptionally good mood-- something that didn’t happen all that often, if ever. His parents had taken off to the local market to get supplies and had left him in charge of the house.

So far so good, right? Sure. Up until the moment his father had shown up again, without mom. He looked pale, distraught, not quite sure what to say to his children and Rodney just knew. He’s still not quite sure how he found out, but he was a child prodigy, so he must have connected the dots and calculated the variables before his father had the chance to say: “Your mother won’t be coming home again— ever.”

Father never did tell him what happened back on that marketplace. The only thing he ever said was that it had been an accident and it was nobody’s fault.

That had been it though, an abrupt end of his brilliant career in science. Because he could already see what his future would bring. Endless hours of taking care of Jeannie, waiting for his father to come home from work. Cleaning, cooking and so many other things would become his responsibility. At the age of fourteen he would have to go out to find a job and he’d grow up to be just another mindless slave of society.

But apparently –and lucky for them- his father didn’t see it that way, because four days later, after his mother’s funeral, he took both him and his sister to a quiet picnic site, just outside of Boston. Once they were there, he had settled in between his children, explaining to them how he couldn’t take care of them any longer, not without mother there to help him, so he had sent a letter to his childless sister Beatrice and her husband Marshall Sumner, hoping they’d be willing to take the children in and care for them.

Two months later, Rodney found himself on a carriage to Branson, Missouri, trying to comfort his sister as she cried herself to sleep against his shoulder. He himself never shed a tear though. No way. And if his cheeks were a little wet, it’s because it was a warm Summer day and he sweated a lot— but not because he cried. Not at all.

 

**BRANSON, Missouri**

** August, 1853 **

Five days. That’s how long Rodney sulks and refuses to interact with his aunt or uncle and then he just gets bored. Because Branson, Missouri is the most boring place he’s ever been to. Jeannie seems to be having a good time though and that counts for something.

So, the day he’s sitting underneath the big tree at the edge of the Sumner orchard and a strange skinny boy with wild hair and pointy ears, who’s carrying fishing gear, comes along and just kind of stops in the middle of the path to stare at him, is firmly written down as the first day something interesting happens in Rodney McKay’s _ohsoboring_ existence.

“What are you looking at?” Rodney asks as rudely as he can, because the staring gets old real soon.

“You,” the boy says, a grin tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“Yes, I can see that,” Rodney replies, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Tell me, is this entire state populated by idiots?”

“No,” the boy just says, cocking his head to the side, scrutinizing Rodney.

“Then why are you acting as one?” Rodney asks, beyond annoyed.

“To annoy you,” the boy says, bursting out in laughter.

“Oh, haha. Yes, I can see how that can be entertaining in this wayward part of the world,” Rodney spits out.

“Yeah well, you know us simple folk—always trying to put down the educated geniuses,” the boy answers, grinning like a lunatic.

“Huh— you’re not stupid, are you?” Rodney more states then asks.

“I don’t know. You tell me,” the boy counters.

“Well, you have ridiculous hair that resembles a dead animal and a stupid smirk that makes you look like a babbling idiot, but you just said _educated geniuses_ without slurring, so that has to count for something,” Rodney says matter-of-factly, bobbing his head up and down.

“Cool,” the boy says, sticking out his hand, “I’m John Sheppard. I’m twelve and I live a little further up on the road with my dad. I heard my grandma talk about you and your sister. Did your mom really die?”

“Yeah, she did,” Rodney says, shuffling his toes in the sand.

“Mine too,” John says, “So we have something in common. You want to be my friend?”

“Sure,” Rodney accepts, standing up and shaking John’s hand. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do around here.”

“Great,” John says, picking up the fishing gear from where he dropped it earlier. “Wanna come fishing with me?”

“Fishing? Oh, that is such an idiotic pastime,” Rodney says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“So— is that _yes_ or _no_?” John asks, lifting his eyebrows.

“Hmmm— yes. Sure, why not? But only to inform you correctly about all the accidents one can have during a simple fishing trip,” Rodney says, following John who’s already a few steps in front of him. “Did you know that—“

John just grins at him and lightly shakes his head, his eyes clearly broadcasting the message _I can’t believe how strange you are. I like it_.

That marks the day as the first of many where Rodney drops everything to follow John. It’s like a compulsion he never really loses during the many years to come. And at the beginning of every one of those years, Rodney is always convinced that this will be the year he’ll lose John, for his friend will inevitably grow bored or tired with him, like all his other friends in Boston did.

But John never does leave him and it only makes Rodney love him more.

 

**SHILOH, Tennessee**

** April 8th, 1862 **

Hell. That’s how John will always remember the battlefield of Shiloh, Tennessee. It’s been a day now and they’ve just begun recovering bodies— thousands of them. Most of them young men, drafted to go to war, some of them were there of their own volition, enthusiastic about finally seeing some action. John knows about this, because he was one of them not so long ago. One of the idiots who actually wanted to go to war.

Wandering around aimlessly, he has to make sure that he carefully places his feet to avoid stepping on one of the scattered bodies. And this is not what he dreamt of when he signed up to become a soldier. He had expected glory and fame, as all young men do at a certain age. But this-- all those people— all the death and destruction. The only thing he feels like doing right now is lie down and sleep for an eternity, trying to forget the massacre and the blood-- escape the stench of rotting corpses and the sound of vultures feasting on them.

But he won’t do that, because his father would probably come back from the dead to kick his ass, telling him in clear words that he didn’t raise his son to be a coward. So he just sits down forlornly, next to a body dressed in the Confederate’s colours. This is supposed to be the enemy, but John’s long since abandoned his hatred for the _other side_. He studies the young man’s face for a moment, trying to picture him alive— laughing with his buddies, talking to his parents. Parents who are probably anxiously waiting for some news about him. Parents who’ll keep on waiting, because their son will never come home again.

In a way he’s somewhat envious of this guy. At least he might still have family out there, keeping him alive in their memories. John isn’t that lucky. His grandmother died a few years ago and his dad gave up his struggle with tuberculosis now eight months ago. He’s got no relatives left and if it hadn’t been for Rodney, he would be completely alone in the world.

Thinking of Rodney perks him up a little as a small grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. Rodney joined up the same day he did, complaining loudly that _if he got wounded or killed in battle somewhere it would all be John’s fault because John lured him into signing up._

In reality, however, John did no such thing. In fact, he was very much against Rodney signing up to go to war with him. But when Rodney found out that John was joining up, he had berated him and called him all kinds of _not-so-polite_ names. He dedicated hours of his time to talk John out of it— he even drew complicated charts with strange mathematical equations John had never even heard of-- and when he finally came to the conclusion that John wouldn’t back down, Rodney simply decided to join up too— _if only to rescue John from his suicidal tendencies and to make sure he got back home in one piece_.

However, Rodney hadn’t counted on his father’s influence. Rodney’s dad, who was still alive and well, living in New York these days, was a personal friend of some high-ranking general and he made sure Rodney never got to see an actual battlefield, by posting him at intelligence headquarters. Safe to say that Rodney hadn’t been happy with this as he cursed his father for all he was worth. Secretly though, John had been pleased. He knew Rodney-- and a battlefield was no place for a guy that panicked at the sound of a bug buzzing around his ears.

It’s been a year now since he last saw Rodney and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t miss his friend something fiercely, but it’s enough to know that Rodney’s still out there. He knows Rodney-- he really does. By now his friend is giving his superiors hell, complaining and insulting their intelligence as loudly as he can— demanding to get information on the battle that took place here yesterday and the day before that. He’ll end up visiting the top generals if necessary. He’ll yell at them in the most polite manner he knows. Trying to get them to use their influence to find out about John’s welfare. And the mere thought of Rodney on a rampage, just for him, makes him feel warm in all the right places. As long as he has Rodney in his life, he’ll never be alone.

Lost in thought, his head snaps up when he hears shuffling noises coming from his left.

“Hello?” he shouts, slowly pulling his gun out of the holster, hesitating slightly as the gun doesn’t come out as easily as he would have liked. The thought crosses his mind that he should really have that thigh holster made that he’s wanted for such a long time.

Carefully stepping over the bodies, he walks over to the place where the noises originated from. There’s some movement in a ditch nearby, so John aims his gun, moves a little closer as he tries to sneak a cautious look over the edge and—

WHACK!

John yells out loudly as something solid makes contact with his nose, because— ouch. He quickly moves out of the way as he sees a heavy branch coming his way. And what the hell?

A young, dark-skinned woman jumps out of the ditch, all lean and limber, swirling the branch around as if it’s something she’s born to do. John reacts by pointing his gun straight at her.

“Drop it,” he says sternly. “Now. I don’t want to shoot you, but if you keep wielding that stick of yours, I’ll have no choice.”

It takes a brief moment before the woman reluctantly drops the branch back into the ditch. She never stops glaring at him though, and John absentmindedly thinks that if looks could kill, he’d be a dead man by now.

“Who are you?” he asks, curious why this woman is hiding in the middle of a battlefield.

The woman doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring at him, her eyes skittering all over the place, looking for a way out-- in all ways resembling a cornered animal. And it occurs to John that pointing a gun at her might not be the best way to get her to open up, so with slow movements he puts the gun back in the holster.

“Look,” he says, sticking up his hands in the air, studying her face, noticing for the first time that her hair is matted with blood. “No more weapons okay? I just want to know who you are and if you’re all right.”

He’s not sure what he did, but he must have done something right as the woman visibly relaxes and just says one word. “Teyla.”

“Teyla? What’s that?” John asks, lowering his hands.

“I’m Teyla,” she says.

“Well, okay. Hi Teyla. I’m John Sheppard and— if you let me, I can help you. But no more hitting with big sticks-- all right?”

“All right,” Teyla says, still eyeing him warily, but clearly acknowledging that she needs help.

“Good. I’ll take you to the camp. They’ve got some good doctors there who can take a look at that head wound of yours,” John says, taking a step back, expecting Teyla to follow him. She still hasn’t told him why she was hiding in that ditch, but he’s tired and he doesn’t want to be here anymore, so perhaps he doesn’t need to know so badly.

“Will I be your personal-- slave?” she suddenly asks, her voice filled with obvious disdain and anger as she doesn’t move an inch.

“What?” John asks, cocking his head, suddenly fully realising why exactly this woman was hiding in a ditch. Some people have a big problem with run-away slaves. “No. There are no slaves where I come from Teyla. We— and especially _I_ don’t believe in slavery. People should be free to do whatever they want to do. Just come with me, you’ll be medically treated and afterwards you can go wherever you want to go. Your choice, no one else’s.”

“Promise?” Teyla asks, straightening up proudly.

“Promise,” John says. “You don’t know me, but you’ll have to take my word for it. Can you do that?” he asks, searching her dark eyes for an answer.

For the next few moments John lets Teyla study him quietly and deeply. He doesn’t speak, he just lets her watch. Until finally—

“I trust you,” she says as she closes her eyes briefly. “Show me the way to freedom.”

Strangely enough, once they reached the camp and Teyla’s wound had been tended to, she refused to leave John’s side. She hardly said a word and after a while she stopped speaking all together, as if she didn’t want to attract any attention to her presence, afraid of being taken away again.

For her entire life she had been the property of someone else and when she finally had the chance to break free, she couldn’t do it. So she decided to stick with John, not out of necessity or possession, but out of gratitude.

John tried convincing her that she didn’t owe him anything-- that she could just leave and enjoy her new-found freedom, but she never listened and stuck by him every step of the way, ignoring and fighting off the army’s attempts to make her leave— _for war is no place for a woman_ they informed her, which always made John laugh out loud, because Teyla could fight better then any man he’d ever met.

In the end John stopped trying as he grew used to her silent presence, helping him stay sane as the war progressed and he had no one else to fall back on.

When the war finally drew to an end, he knew –without a doubt- that his dream of roaming the West would come true and that Teyla would be there, by his side, not just out of loyalty anymore, but out of friendship— something she’d never known before.


	2. Chapter 2

**SYRACUSE, Hamilton County, Kansas**

** March, 1872 **

The afternoon sun shines down onto the river’s surface, reflecting the light back onto the riverbanks, as four horses travel from one bank to the other. It should be an idyllic scene for most, but Rodney’s not impressed.

“You know—I’m sure there’s beauty in this somewhere and –no doubt- out there some mindless idiot who dares call himself _poet_ \--“ he starts, cringing at the mention of the word poet, “--will be able to wax long boring rhyming sentences about the way the water breaks the light and reflects it back upon the lone travellers. But right now, I fail to see the attraction of this place,” Rodney complains loudly.

In front of him John Sheppard chuckles out loud while shaking his head. “Damnit Rodney, you never fail to take the fun out of everything, don’t you? Please don’t ever change.”

“What?” Rodney splutters. “What’s that supposed to mean? And I happen to speak the truth. I’ll have you know that poetry is nothing more than— hey, what? Oh not another—“

SPLAT!

“Damn bugs,” Rodney says, rubbing away the splattered mosquito from his neck. “This river is a cesspool of mosquitoes and other murderous insects. When will we be clear of this place?”

“When the Arkansas river stops and we won’t be able to follow it anymore?” the larger man at the back of the group suggests with a smile.

“Yes, Ronon,” Rodney spits, rolling his eyes. “I’m not a blabbering idiot, unlike some people I know. Just tell me how long this river is still supposed to go on?” Rodney says clearly annoyed.

“All right, Rodney,” Sheppard speaks up from in front of him. “Don’t worry. We left Colorado Springs ten days ago and crossed the border to Kansas two days ago. The river goes on for a good while into Kansas territory, but we’ll have to leave its trail somewhere after we’ve passed Syracuse. Besides, a few bugs never killed anyone,” he adds, a grin blooming on his face.

“What are you talking about? Of course bugs kill. Or have you forgotten the day of my fifteenth birthday when that bee sting almost cut my life short?” Rodney asks indignantly, taking of his hat to clear his forehead from the sweat that gathered there. “You know? I wouldn’t be surprised you’d forgotten about that. What was a milestone in my life probably only got a little side-note in the official history books of John Sheppard, wandering cowboy and seducer of innocent young maidens.”

“Hey— all the so-called maidens I’ve slept with were old enough to be called _women_ you know,” John sputters.

“Barely,” Rodney mutters back. “Seriously, Sheppard, you should try to find someone more your own age. Someone educated and sophisticated you can waste your stupid lines on. It might earn you the image of actually possessing some semblance of intelligence.”

“Yeah, and we’re going to meet a lot of educated women out here in the wild,” John snorts.

“Well— you were the one who just had to leave culture behind by becoming some kind of lone vagabond, drifting from state to state with his merry band of— what does that make us anyway?” he asks, gesturing towards himself and their two companions following them on horseback.

“Friends?” John suggests.

“Mph--,” Rodney mutters, because what can you possible say to that?

“Might I make a suggestion, Rodney?” Teyla suddenly speaks up.

And Rodney’s a little startled, because –for some reason- Teyla is the quietest person of their little group, which Rodney thinks is just plain odd, because all the other women he’s ever known were very good at chatting and babbling for hours on end. Not Teyla though and he’s not quite sure how she got to be that way. Fairly positive that he doesn’t ever want to find out either. He might be tempted to use his brain power for pure evil towards whomever hurt this lovely woman to such an extent that she’d just closed herself off from the world.

He can still vividly recall the day when Sheppard came back from the war with this petite, but surprisingly strong woman in tow. At first Rodney complained and harrumphed how utterly inappropriate it was to just pick up some strange woman in the middle of a war. Mostly though it was all bluster to hide his growing confusion about the fact that apparently Sheppard was more interested in some woman he picked up by the side of the road then he was interested in seeing his best friend again.

Teyla hadn’t said a word back then and Rodney had briefly wondered if she was mute or possibly even deaf. But then, a few weeks later, they’d met Ronon Dex, an ex-slave and soldier. He had no place to go and John had offered him their company, telling Dex all about his plans to follow the wild cowboy trials throughout the West. The guy had silently accepted without taking his eyes of Teyla once. He seemed to understand her on a level that neither John nor Rodney could reach and slowly she started opening up again, expressing her desire to join them on their quest John was never the one to deny anyone, so he just went out and bought her some men’s clothes to travel in and that had been it. Their group had been formed.

That was seven years ago and –since then- there hasn’t been one passing day that Rodney hasn’t wondered what the hell he is doing. Because it quickly became obvious that life on the trail wasn't for him. He should live in a town somewhere, reading books, studying, trying to become all that he isn’t today— all that he wants to be. He’s had so many dreams throughout the years and all of them, one by one, had been pushed aside to follow John Sheppard through the wilderness. And once in a while, Rodney lets his mind wander as he poses himself the question-- _why_? The answer always comes to him immediately, but just as quickly it’s pushed aside beneath layers of denial, because there’s pain and humiliation down that path and those are definitely Rodney’s least favorite emotions.

“Rodney?” Teyla asks, interrupting his train of thought.

“Yes—yes, what?”

“Maybe you can tell us some more about those ancient gods you talked about last week?” Teyla suggests. “Some of those stories were almost magical.”

“R-really?” Rodney asks, still not really used to people actually _asking_ him to talk.

“Yes.”

“Well—I suppose I could do that,” he says, puffing his chest out a bit, while glaring suspiciously at the back of Sheppard’s head, bobbing in front of him, because even though the Major is just sitting –well, slouching really- on his horse, Rodney’s known John long enough to suspect that those infuriating lips are sporting a huge grin right now. “Okay, hmmm—well, there’s the story of Heracles and Pegasus. Heracles was a half-God and Pegasus was his magical flying horse. Now, they—“

“Gunshots,” Ronon suddenly interrupts.

“Excuse me?” Rodney mutters, already gearing up for a tirade about how utterly inappropriate it is to interrupt a gentleman when he’s trying to tell a story. But then Sheppard abruptly stops his horse and turns towards him, silently shaking his head, indicating that Rodney’d better shut up for a moment, so Rodney holds back whatever he was going to say. The Major looks serious and Rodney knows that Sheppard only gets that look of focused concentration when it really matters.

“I’ve heard them too,” John says, tilting his head a little to the right. “Ronon, you go ahead and scout out the area. We’re going to keep following the trial.”

“Okay,” Ronon quickly says before disappearing between the bushes next to him.

“Sheppard, are you sure it’s a good idea to keep following the trail?” Rodney asks, a little panicked. They’ve been travelling for a very long time now, but the amount of encounters they’ve had to actually solve with gunshots and violence he could count on one hand. So, he wasn’t all that eager to up the ante on that one.

“Relax, Rodney, when have I ever been wrong before?” John smiles at him, his eyes twinkling. And Sheppard is such a complete and utter bastard, because he knows exactly what to say to get Rodney on his horse— in a figure of speech, so Rodney just crosses his arms over his chest, sticks up his chin in quiet indignation and vows to not say another word for the remainder of their trek.

It’s about half an hour later that Ronon re-emerges from between the trees, this time with someone else in tow. “This is Evan Lorne. Seems the gunshots we heard were him and his men trying to scare of some vultures who were feasting on some dead cattle.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Lorne says, riding up next to John’s horse, sticking out his hand.

“Lorne,” Sheppard acknowledges, shaking his hand. “You have a ranch around here?”

“Yeah—well—no, not my ranch,” Lorne says. “I’m the foreman of a ranch right at the edge of Syracuse. The owner of the ranch is my boss, Elizabeth Weir.”

“A woman?” Rodney butts in, a little surprised, forgetting all about his non-speaking vow.

For the first time, Lorne looks at him, eyeing him speculatively. “Yeah, a woman. You got a problem with that? Mister—“

“McKay. Rodney McKay,” Rodney says, spluttering indignantly. “And no sir, I don’t have a problem with a woman leading a ranch. I’m not an _ignorant_ who thinks that women are unfit to do anything but pop out children and tend to their husband’s needs. I’m an educated man— well, semi-educated, but soon-to-be very educated once I get back to the real world and find a good university that recognises my brilliance and is—“

“Does he always talk that much?” Lorne interrupts, addressing Sheppard.

An impish grin blooms on John’s lips. “Not always, but most of the time,” he replies.

“Oh right,” Rodney sneers. “Mock the genius. Go ahead. We’ll see who laughs last when I get all the admiration of the scientific community in Boston once they get a look at all my brilliant plans and ideas.”

Rodney proudly taps his saddle bags as he thinks of the hundreds, maybe thousands of manuscripts he’s gathered in his life. Every last one of them, filled with ideas and plans for great machines and wonderful contraptions. His pride deflates a little whenever he thinks how utterly wasted they all are while he’s here, traipsing around in the wild. He’s wasting his time and he knows it, but for the life of him, he’s not willing to give up on John Sheppard just yet.

“Yeah,” Lorne says, indulging him. “Listen— you guys--,” he starts, his gaze finally resting on Teyla, “--and especially the boy, must be hungry and tired. Why don’t you come with me and stay on the ranch for a couple of days. Miss Weir won’t mind and we can always use some extra helping hands.”

“You’re inviting us?” Sheppard asks, a little on edge. “You don’t know us.”

“No, but I have a good feeling about you and my gut is never wrong,” Lorne replies.

“What do you think?” John asks, turning towards Rodney, Ronon and Teyla.

“Major,” Rodney says. “The man used the word _food_. Do you honestly think I’m going to turn down the offer of real food while I’ve been living of dead fish and rabbit for months now?”

Chuckling softly, John quickly looks at Ronon and Teyla, who both send him a little nod. “Very well then, I guess it’s decided. _Lay on MacDuff_ ,” he says, tapping his head and ignoring Lorne’s confused look.

And _that_ right there. That is the exact reason why Rodney can’t find it in his heart to leave this life behind and move back to the city. Well— that’s not entirely true. He could leave behind the life he’s leading just fine. He’s just not willing to leave the man he’s been following blindly for years now. John Sheppard has been his friend from the moment he met him at the tender age of eleven. That skinny boy with the strange ears very quickly turned into the one person he could always depend on. Sheppard was always there for him and stuck by him, no matter what.

He turned out to be very clever with words, witty, humoristic and highly intelligent. For all those reasons and so many more Rodney isn’t willing to think about, he can’t give up on Sheppard. In a sense, Rodney’s a compass finely tuned in to his undeniable North-- in this case a bushy-haired cowboy named John Sheppard.

~*~

“Gentlemen, my foreman just informed me of your arrival. Welcome to the Atlantis Ranch,” a beautiful dark-haired woman comes up to them as they are in the middle of grooming and stabling their horses.

“Woah there, Puddlejumper. Easy boy,” Sheppard softly whispers to his horse, as it grows restless. Focusing his attention on Miss Weir, he conjures up his most cocky smile as he holds out his hand. “John Sheppard, Ma’am, pleased to meet you.”

Rodney closes his eyes and groans softly. There we go again, he thinks. He’s seen this behavior before. Every damn time Sheppard comes across a beautiful woman, he seems to lose whatever sanity he possesses in favor of becoming this grinning lunatic who will –without a doubt- be sharing a bed with said woman before the night is over.

Something inside of him starts to hurt, as he remembers those endless nights— waiting for John to return to them, but he never does.

“And who are these gentlemen?” Elizabeth asks, focusing her attention on him now.

“Rodney McKay,” Rodney says, shaking her hand, while introducing the others at the same time. “The tall guy in the back is Ronon Dex and the boy here is Jinto Teyla Emmagan.”

Ronon just sends her a gruff greeting while Teyla steps forward and graciously shakes her hand. Rodney sees how Elizabeth studies Teyla’s features speculatively and when her eyes widen in surprise, he knows that Teyla didn’t fool her. It seems that women never are.

“Hello— Jinto,” she says, staring straight at Teyla for a moment before pulling away and focusing her gaze on Ronon. “Mister Dex, pleased to meet you. Friends, all of you are welcome in my home. I’d like to invite you to have dinner with me tonight. It can get awfully lonely in these parts and most of the residents here are growing tired of each other’s faces. It’ll be a treat to hear some new stories over dinner,” she says, smiling softly at John.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Rodney mumbles, trying to hide his jealousy by puttering about with his saddle bags.

“I’ll give you some time to rest and freshen up. I’ll send Chuck, Lorne’s son, for you when dinner is ready,” Elizabeth says, glancing into Teyla’s direction one last time before turning around and leaving the stable.

~*~

John never pretended to be very difficult to seduce, but this is just too easy—even for him. He felt the immediate attraction between him and Elizabeth and is looking forward to dinner where he can spend some quality time with this fascinating woman.

But first things first.

“So, Rodney--,” he says, turning towards his best friend, who’s in the middle of checking the contents of his saddle bags and muttering to himself. “Do you think you could actually make an effort to be somewhat enjoyable tonight at dinner?”

“What?” Rodney asks, focusing his attention on John –and it’s disturbing just how much John enjoys that. That moment when he can see the focal point of Rodney’s world shift, so that he becomes the sole focus of that brilliant mind. It makes his body shiver all over and goose bumps appear on every square centimetre of his skin. He’s not sure where this strong physical reaction comes from, so he tries not to think about it too much. Some things are better left alone.

“What are you talking about, Major?” Rodney asks. “Did Miss Weir’s batting eyelashes go to your head in such a way that you’re unable to bring out anything intelligent from here on?” he scathingly adds.

Rolling his eyes, John goes on. “Rodney, the nice and beautiful lady invited us to stay here for a couple of days, which means regular food and an actual bed— or at least a warm room to sleep in. Why the hell are you being this stubborn and unpleasant? I should think that you –of all people- would appreciate a little comfort.”

“I do,” Rodney says dejectedly, looking away from John. “Don’t worry about it, Sheppard. I’m just tired I suppose.”

And John has known Rodney for a very long time now. He’s seen him at his best and at his absolute worst. There were a few moments in life when he actually saw Rodney beam like the sunshine. Those moments starkly set against the ones where he had hit absolute rock bottom.

Of all the painful experiences John has ever had in life, the moment when so-called scholars insulted and humiliated Rodney and left nothing whole of him, had pained him the most. It had taken Rodney two years of his life to scrounge up enough courage to present his plans for building a flying machine to the board of scholars in New York. They never really took a proper look at him, let alone his designs— which were very solid and interesting. The only thing they knew was that Rodney wasn’t one of _them_ , so they dismissed and ridiculed him before having him removed hard-handed.

John had been beyond pissed with them. He wanted to kill them for putting that look of total and utter defeat on Rodney’s face. Rodney was a lot of things, but being a quitter was not one of them and –as far as John knows- that’s still the only time Rodney’s ever quit anything as he buried the plans for the flying machine underneath all the others, pushing them away for good.

So yeah, John has seen it all— but never before has he seen Rodney give in like this. Not to him anyway. Whatever John says or does, Rodney will always be there with a scathing remark, blatant criticism or another form of verbal abuse to keep John’s feet square on the ground, preventing him from reaching out for the unattainable.

It’s almost disconcerting to see his friend like this, and if he would have more time, he’d keep on asking. But as it is, they have a dinner to attend to and not a lot of time to get ready. He makes a mental note to talk to Rodney after dinner.

“Ri-ight,” he drawls, before grabbing his other black shirt –his only other shirt- from his saddle bag and goes in search of Ronon and Teyla who’re on a quest for water, leaving Rodney to fend for his precious saddle bags alone.

~*~

Turns out that dinner is a very pleasant affair at the Atlantis Ranch. Elizabeth is a most admirable hostess who isn’t afraid to entertain them with a few good tall tales of her own. “Call me Elizabeth,” she says, before she animatedly tells them about the ups and downs the ranch has known ever since it was founded by Robert Weir, Elizabeth’s father.

Elizabeth has very nice eyes and John really likes the way her long curly brown hair just falls over her shoulders. She’s wearing a beautiful red dress that shows of all of her curves just right and John can’t help but imagine, all throughout dinner, what those very shapely hands would feel like on his bare skin.

Who knows? Maybe he won’t have to wait too long to actually find out either, because Elizabeth has been sending him all kinds of glances all night long and some of them were smouldering hot.

Rodney, however, doesn’t make any sense tonight. He’s barely eaten anything, while on the trail he did nothing but complain about the poor quality of their food. John expected him to just start wolfing down the food in front of him, but he did no such thing. He just sat there, uncharacteristically quiet, taking a few unenthusiastic bites.

John hates that. He hates that something is bothering Rodney and he doesn’t know what. He wants Rodney to bitch and moan and spew sarcasm, not just sit there morosely, playing with his food. He has to fix this.

“Rodney,” he says, waiting for Rodney to look up from his plate. “Why don’t you tell Elizabeth something about Boston? I’m sure she’d love to hear about it.”

“Boston,” Elizabeth interrupts curiously. “You’ve been to Boston Mr McKay?”

That’s more like it, John thinks as he sees how Rodney’s eyes start to twinkle, gearing up for a tirade about the brilliance that is the city of Boston. “Been there?” he starts. “I actually lived there. Granted, it was only until my eleventh birthday, but still— you could say that I’m a real Bostonian. I mean, it’s obvious that –while I was there- I mingled in a lot of higher educated classes. Well, educated— some of those quacks liked to think they were educated, but in reality—“

He’s off on a tangent now and this is so much better. John loves how Rodney gets all passionate and happy when he talks about Boston. It makes him want to pack things up and travel straight through to Boston, just to see his friend’s reaction. Rodney needs books, ideas and intelligent peers whom he can discuss science with until all hours of night. And it’s not for the first time that John wonders what the hell Rodney McKay is doing with him, travelling through the West. This has always been John’s dream, not Rodney’s, but still there he is, faithful as ever.

Guilt creeps up on him whenever he thinks of the many times he cajoled Rodney into coming with him, instead of encouraging him to follow his own dream of pursuing a higher education. Truth is that John is too selfish to ever let Rodney go. He needs him like he needs air to breathe and living without that fresh breeze is not an option.

And he can’t think about this, so just like all the times he’s gone down this road in the past, John clamps down on that train of thought— right there, because the more he thinks about it, the more there’s something niggling at the edges of his mind. Something he’s not ready to deal with yet.

Rodney’s passionate monologue is interrupted when Ronon’s chair scrapes against the floor. “I’m going to get some sleep,” he says, before turning around and walking away.

“Hmm— Is he always that talkative?” Elizabeth asks amusedly.

“Yeah, pretty much so,” John says, smiling back at her before adding, “Listen Elizabeth, I could use some fresh air. Do you mind if I step outside onto the porch for a moment?”

One-two-three— and—

“No not at all. In fact, I’m in need of some fresh air myself. Why don’t I join you?” Elizabeth suggests pleasantly.

\--and oh yeah. He hasn’t lost it yet, John thinks, grinning like a fool.

“Yeah right,” Rodney abruptly says, pushing his chair away with too much force. “Seems it’s bedtime for us Jinto. Unless you want to get some fresh air too?” he sarcastically adds. And man, what the hell has crawled up his ass anyway? John thinks, sending Rodney a foul glare.

Teyla doesn’t say a word as she just studies Rodney for a moment, a small sad smile forming on her lips. “No need Rodney. I am tired, so this might be a good time to get some rest.”

“Good good,” Rodney replies, already walking out of the room without looking back at John or Elizabeth. “Goodnight, Miss Weir,” Teyla says, bowing towards her. “John,” she adds, looking slightly disapprovingly at John. And what has he done wrong now? Rodney had started it.

And then it’s just him and Elizabeth. “I’m sorry about Rodney,” he says. “I don’t know what’s got into him tonight. He’s normally a lot more pleasant.”

“I somehow doubt that,” she says, smiling at him. “But it’s okay. I’m used to working with stubborn mules, so don’t worry about it. Shall we step outside for a moment?”

“Yes of course,” John agrees, opening the door and letting Elizabeth pass through first.

“Oh, this is such a beautiful night,” Elizabeth says, wrapping her shawl tightly around her, gazing out over the dark contours of the coral. “I’ve been living here my entire life and the beauty of Atlantis still amazes me each and every day.”

“Where does the name Atlantis come from?” John asks curiously.

“My father was a big fan of ancient legends. There was this one story about a secret city that got swallowed up by the sea during a terrible storm. The city’s name was Atlantis. He thought it was a fitting name for a ranch. And I couldn’t have agreed more,” she explains, inhaling deeply. “I mean, look at this place John. It has to be the most incredible place on Earth and it’s mine. So I consider myself a very lucky woman indeed.”

“It is beautiful,” John quietly agrees, still looking intently at Elizabeth, who ducks her head, blushing slightly.

“Thank you,” she says, composing herself a little. “Now, if only other people would see it that way too.”

“What do you mean?” John asks.

“There’s a gang roaming this territory. They call themselves the Wraith -I imagine to scare people of- and they think they’re king of the entire Hamilton County. They come here once in a while to steal our horses and to burn our barns and stables down,” Elizabeth says, sounding worried. “Lorne has picked up stories that they’re in the neighborhood again and I’m scared they’ll find their way back to Atlantis.”

“Have you tried fighting them off?” John asks, angry that someone would want to destroy a place like this.

“Well, I started out trying to talk to their leader first— Michael, but that was a bust, so yes, we have tried to fight them and I have to say that Lorne and the others have done an admirable job, but they still couldn’t hold them from burning down all of our stables the last time they came,” Elizabeth says, gazing in the direction of the newly built stables. “People keep leaving, afraid to raise their families in this part of the country. If this keeps happening, I might not have enough horses or men left to keep this place running. I’m at a loss what to do anymore.”

“We could stay,” John offers, knowing that him, Ronon, Teyla and even Rodney would make great allies.

Elizabeth studies him silently for a moment, before asking: “What makes you think that you’d be able to hold them off?”

“I have my ways,” John says, not elaborating on his answer.

“It’s strange,” Elizabeth says, shaking her head. “I hardly even know you and yet— I just know I can trust you. So, if you’re willing to stay and help us get rid of the Wraith gang forever you’ll have my eternal appreciation.” 

“Then we’ll stay,” John says seriously.

“Thanks,” Elizabeth replies, before looking back out into the distance. “With the four of you at our side, we might have a good fighting chance this time.”

“We’ll see about that,” John muses, because if anything— he knows from first hand experience how things can go horribly wrong in a battle.

Silence descends as both Elizabeth and John get lost in their thoughts until, “Well, it’s past my bedtime already,” Elizabeth says, yawning a little. “I’m off to bed. Goodnight, John Sheppard. Please lock the door behind you when you decide to go inside again.” And just like that, she’s gone and John is left alone on the porch, a little disappointed that the night ends here.

A few minutes later, when John is just about ready to go back inside, he hears the door softly open behind him. And maybe he’s about to get lucky after all, he silently grins.

“Oh,” a startled voice says behind him, and—

“Rodney?” John asks, turning around to fully face his friend. “What are you doing outside? I thought you were going to bed?”

“Yeah, well— I couldn’t sleep and decided to get some fresh air. Besides, I had no idea you were still out here. I heard Elizabeth go to bed a few minutes ago and I thought—“

“You thought I’d be in bed with her right now,” John says.

“Well yeah, that does seem to be your MO. I mean, taking a breath of fresh air while you sweep the damsel of her feet and sweep yourself into her bed at the same time, right?” Rodney counters sarcastically.

“Oh come on. It’s not like that,” John defends himself, even though he’s not quite sure what he’s done wrong.

“No? Then how is it, Major?” Rodney asks, crossing his arms and sticking out his chin expectantly.

“Well— I don’t know. When the feeling’s right and the mood is set, you know—“ he trails off.

“Yeah, I do know,” Rodney says, despondently leaning against the rail of the porch.

“Besides, what do you care anyway? Who I take to bed and when has nothing to do with you.” John says vehemently.

“No,” Rodney says, staring out into the pitch black night. “You’re right. None of my business.”

“Exactly,” John stresses.

“Right, just promise me that you’ll never settle, Sheppard,” Rodney softly adds, the light from inside illuminating his features as he smiles at John. “Never settle for second best. You deserve better then just some random woman here and there.”

Utterly surprised, John hasn’t a clue how to respond to that. Rodney always does this. All day long he’s an arrogant sarcastic bastard and then he just says one thing that strips him of all that bluster and reveals the good guy that he really is underneath it all.

“I promised Elizabeth to stick around to help her get rid of some gang that’s roaming this county,” he blurts out. Anything to get Rodney bitching again. And it works.

“You what?” Rodney almost yells. “Are you insane? How big is this gang?”

“I don’t know,” John shrugs.

“Oh, that’s great. That’s just excellent, Major Empty-head! You let yourself be fooled again by a pair of pretty goo-goo eyes, didn’t you?” Rodney sneers, all traces of that strange melancholy erased from his face now.

“No!” John shouts. “It’s not like that. These people need help and we’re here anyway. Besides, Elizabeth is special. She’s not like all those other women I’ve been with in the past,” he adds.

“Oh sure,” Rodney says, rolling his eyes. “I’m confident that she’s able to pout with those pretty lips a little longer. Or that she’s better at sending you that innocent ‘Oh please Mr Sheppard, I need your help’ smile.”

“No Rodney,” John says, leaning against the railing next to his friend. “Nothing like that at all. She’s just— different.”

He feels Rodney’s quiet scrutiny envelop him. “Wow,” he says. “It is true. You really like this woman. You’re— falling for her.”

“Yeah, I think I am,” John quietly admits. “I know it’s very sudden, but— Rodney, she’s just so— strong.”

“Huh— who would have known. The great John Sheppard in love. I guess life has an ironic streak after all,” Rodney says, his voice breaking a little.

“What? What do you mean?” John asks, more then a little confused by his friend’s reaction.

“Nothing. I mean nothing,” Rodney says, before turning away from John. “I should go get some sleep.”

“No wait,” John says, grabbing Rodney’s arm to stop him.

“What now?” Rodney asks resignedly.

“I need your help, Rodney,” John says as sincerely as he can.

“My help? With what?”

“Well, I have seduced women in the past, as you know. But, I’ve never really wooed a woman before,” John starts.

“Wooed?” Rodney asks, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Yeah. You know— with feelings and stuff,” Johns says, nodding vigorously.

“Okay, so what does that have to do with me? Do I look like some kind of a yenta with all the matchmaking answers to you?” Rodney asks, pointing at himself.

“Well, I thought— you see— I mean—“ John tries, letting go of Rodney’s arm and dragging his hands through his –already wild- mop of hair.

“Out with it Sheppard. I don’t have all night. Some of us need to sleep to look good,” Rodney says impatiently.

“Okay, I want you to pretend to be Elizabeth,” he spits out.

“What?” Rodney asks, looking even more confused then a second ago.

“I need you to pretend to be Elizabeth for a moment, so I can practice wooing her— on you,” John says, wincing slightly, because the idea sounded a lot better in his head then coming out of his mouth.

“Major, did you fall down and crack your skull sometime— oh, say— between the moment I wanted to go inside and you informed me of your latest plan?” Rodney asks, his voice slightly squeaky.

“Uhm— no?” Sheppard replies hesitantly.

“All right, so then what in God’s name makes you think that it would be a good idea for me to be an Elizabeth stand-in so you can practice— wooing her?” Rodney asks, ending with a deep sigh.

“Oh come on, Rodney. You wouldn’t have to do anything, just stand there and listen if anything I say makes sense at all,” John tries to cajole.

“Stand here? That’s all?” Rodney asks, before slapping his hand against his forehead. “God, I can’t believe I’m actually contemplating this. The things I do for you— Fine, I’ll do it. But you’d better appreciate this Major.”

“I do,” John quickly says. “I do. Thanks Rodney. You’re a real pal.”

“Yeah yeah, stop sucking up and start wooing already. I’m tired and I want to go to bed,” Rodney complains.

“Okay, I can do that,” John says, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms against his pants, before reaching for Rodney’s hands.

“What are you doing?” Rodney asks, a little alarmed while pulling away his hands.

“I’m trying to take your hands,” John says. “If I want to make this realistic, I’ll have to hold your hands in the same way I want to hold Elizabeth’s hands.”

“Fine fine,” Rodney mutters under his breath, holding up his hands. “Seriously, things I do for you.”

“Right,” John says, before reaching for Rodney’s hands again. This time Rodney doesn’t pull away and—huh— seems Rodney’s hands are surprisingly soft to the touch.

“Sheppard?” Rodney says. “Get on with it.”

“Okay,” John says, before looking up at Rod—Elizabeth’s eyes. He tries to picture them. Those beautiful eyes, staring back at him. “Elizabeth, I want—I’d like to tell you something important.”

“Yes?” Elizabeth says expectantly.

“I’ve only known you for a very short time, but I feel like I know you so well and—uhm— you see--,” John stutters, still gazing into those hypnotizing eyes. “Your smile is enchanting and your eyes— your eyes are so blue. Blue like I think the ocean must look like or—“

“Sheppard,” Elizabeth interrupts.

But John’s on a roll right now and he just goes on. “—or blue like sapphires. Sapphires are blue right? And sometimes, on a clear day when the sky is that perfect blue colour—that’s what your eyes look like right now, at this moment,” he says, releasing her right hand and softly cupping her cheek while leaning in with only one intention. He slightly parts his lips, and then he’s there, his mouth softly brushes hers and--

“John!” Rodney’s voice suddenly breaks the moment.

“What?” John says, breathing a little deeper then normal, suddenly startlingly aware that he’s tenderly cupping Rodney’s cheek, not Elizabeth’s. He just almost _–and it is almost, because lips barely brushing together is not a kiss. Right?-_ kissed Rodney. And he should say something silly. Something to break the heady mood, but all that comes out is: “You never call me by my first name.”

“I don’t?” Rodney whispers.

“No, you don’t. Why did you stop me? I thought it was going well, don’t you?” John asks, trying to say something to stop the hysterical giggle stuck at the back of his throat, because this is not happening.

“I—Elizabeth has brown eyes John— not blue,” Rodney says, staring right back at him with those wonderful pools of blue.

Oh God, he’s been waxing poetic about Rodney’s eyes, not Elizabeth’s. And this needs to end right now. So, he pulls his hand back from where it’s almost caressing Rodney’s face and takes a step back, completely ignoring the hurt that settles over Rodney’s face. He coughs a little, clears his throat and buys himself some time, because what do you say to your best friend when you, swept up in a daze of love for a woman -because that’s all it was- _almost_ kissed him?

“Well— of course they’re brown. It’s just that—uhm— I couldn’t get a clear picture of them and I thought of Chaya’s eyes instead. Stupid I know. But, you know— when the moment’s there, I’ll just compare Elizabeth’s eyes with— something brown. So yeah—“ John ends lamely, acutely aware he’s babbling.

He risks another glance up at Rodney, who is still standing fixed in the same spot, motionless, but pale— so very pale. “Of course,” he finally says, dejectedly. “Chaya. The blacksmith’s daughter at Colorado Springs. For a few seconds there I thought--” he stops, turns away from John and softly shakes his head. “Never mind. Silly me, I suppose. I’m really tired. I’m off to bed.”

“Rodney,” John says, his voice holding a desperate quality, because— “Are we good?”

Rodney stops right inside the doorway and turns his head sideways for a moment. “Yeah Major, we’re good.”

Just like that it’s back to Major again, no more _John_ and how is it that one word can make John feel like the biggest asshole that ever lived.

“I wouldn’t worry about Elizabeth either,” Rodney adds. “I’m sure you’ll be able to sweep her off her feet once you get the colour of her eyes right.” Then he walks through and closes the door behind him.

John leans back against the wall next to the door and buries his face in his hands. Of all the dumb and idiotic things to do. His friendship with Rodney is the most precious thing he has on the entire planet and it’s quite possible he just wrecked it for good by giving into something he’s been denying himself for such a long time, something society condemns and thinks of as just plain wrong.

~*~

When Rodney opens his eyes the next morning, all he wants is to go back to sleep. Because sleep is sweet oblivion and that’s the only thing he needs: to be without that constant thrum of pain in the back of his mind. 

There shouldn’t be pain. There really shouldn’t. Because last night, on the porch of Atlantis, Major John Sheppard, his best friend in the whole wide world and the only person he has ever truly loved in his life, kissed him. He cupped his cheek and he kissed him— him-- Rodney McKay. And it was perfect in every way.

It would have stayed perfect, if -right after that- Sheppard hadn’t pulled away in disgust, realising that it wasn’t Elizabeth, Chaya or some other woman he was kissing, but a man. Not just any man— no, Rodney, his friend.

And this is, Rodney thinks, what it must feel like to be stuck between heaven and hell when –for only a second in time- a dream is finally realised, but in return you need to give up on it for the rest of eternity.

He’s always known that there’d come a day when he wouldn’t just threaten to leave, but actually just go. And this is it. It’s time for him to be out of the John Sheppard magnetic field. He needs to reinvent himself again, find out who he really is and _can_ be without the Major by his side. It’ll hurt big time, but the whole ‘pining for your best friend while he sows his wild oats with every attractive girl or woman he meets’-routine just isn’t going to cut it anymore. So as soon as they’ve dealt with this gang Sheppard talked about last night, he’s out of here. Straight on a course to Boston.

He finally pushes himself up on his elbows, only to find Sheppard’s bed already empty, but definitely slept upon, so he must have snuck in the room at some time last night. He can’t help it as a little thrill races through him, ridiculously happy that the Major didn’t end up in Elizabeth’s bed after all.

Groaning out loud, he lets himself drop back onto the straw mattress, his arm covering his eyes.

“God, I’m so screwed.”

A few minutes later, he reluctantly gets up and washes his face with the cold water in the bowl next to the bed. He’s still shrugging on his shirt when he hears someone yelling outside.

“Wraith! Wraith! They’re coming this way!”

Quickly buttoning up, Rodney runs downstairs to see what all the commotion is about. Downstairs, the house is bustling with energy. Elizabeth quickly passes him, wearing a pair of men’s trousers and a large rifle is clutched in her hands. Lorne is there as well, passing out rifles to three of his men, gathered in the main room. Lorne’s son, Chuck, is standing next to him, looking a little forlorn with the big rifle in his hand. The boy is barely seventeen and it shows.

Next to them, peering out of the window, stands John, his hand resting on the butt of the gun strapped to his thigh. For some reason he’s never really got the handle of a normal gun belt, so he had a special thigh holster made for him in one of the towns they passed, now five years ago.

Next to Rodney, the door opens and Ronon comes in, taking large looming steps until he’s standing next to the Sheppard.

“I released all the horses in the outer corral at the back,” he says.

“Good. At least they won’t get their hands on those animals then,” Sheppard says, clasping Ronon’s shoulder briefly.

“What’s going on?” Rodney asks, sliding up next to Ronon. Sheppard sends him a quick glance before going back to peering out of the window.

“Remember what I told you last night? About that gang?” he says, his voice strained.

“You mean the one you thought would be a good idea to fight without asking if we’d agree with that, just assuming we’d be okay with becoming cannon meat,” Rodney answers, still pissed.

“There are no cannons around here, McKay,” Ronon says, grinning wildly.

“Yes well—I was talking metaphorically, you big ape,” Rodney says, the corner of his mouth slanting in an unhappy scowl.

Undeterred by their antics, Sheppard explains: “That gang is the Wraith gang, lead by a guy named Michael. They terrorize everyone in these parts and right now they’re on a direct course to this ranch.”

“So, Major Sheppard— now that you got us into this mess, how are you getting us out?” Rodney asks coldly.

“Don’t worry, McKay,” Sheppard says, words clipped. “You won’t have to risk anything. The only thing you have to do is stay here and let us handle it.”

“Excuse me?” Rodney squeaks. “And what am I to do exactly from here? Pretend to be a sitting duck?”

“No,” Teyla, who just entered the main room, says. “You’re going to help me, Chuck and Elizabeth defend this place to keep those gangsters out, while providing adequate cover for John, Ronon, Lorne and his men to ambush the gang from the back.”

John glances back at Teyla for a moment, admiration shining through. “Exactly,” he says. “Good thinking Teyla.”

Before Rodney has time to shred this -clearly idiotic- plan to pieces Elizabeth joins them, rifle still in hand. “So, it’s Teyla then?” she asks, looking at Teyla.

“Yes, it is,” Teyla replies. “Teyla Emmagan.”

“Pleased to meet you, Teyla,” Elizabeth says, sending her a small smile. “You’re very brave, travelling through the country like that and I’m glad you’re going to be fighting alongside me to defend my home.”

Bowing her head a little, Teyla just smiles serenely. “The honor is mine, Elizabeth.”

“So, John,” Elizabeth says, turning her full attention back to Sheppard. “Where do you want us?”

“Well, I think it’s best that you and Teyla set up guard at the main windows in this room. McKay can post next to the smaller window in the middle, while Chuck takes care of the backdoor. That should offer adequate firepower to keep them outside long enough,” Sheppard explains. “In the mean time, we’re sneaking around them, through the woods and re-emerge at their backs. We’ll be able to take all eight of them out from that position.”

“All right,” Elizabeth says, already moving away. “I’ll go check the back windows one last time, to see if all the shutters are tightly closed.” Teyla and Ronon quickly follow her out of the room and then it’s just him and Sheppard.

“Are you crazy?” Rodney hisses between his teeth, stepping up closer to Sheppard. “That plan is as good as suicide. What if they see you while you’re still creeping through the woods? They’ll be able to shoot you at the spot. It’ll be like hunting season for them.”

“Rodney— it’ll be fine,” Sheppard says, reaching up to pat his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah— that’s what you always say and then something always goes wrong,” Rodney says, a little desperately. “Don’t do this, John. Just don’t.”

“That’s the second time,” Sheppard says a little breathlessly.

“The second time what?” Rodney asks confused.

“That you said my first name.”

“Yeah well—I’ll say it again and again if it’ll keep you here,” Rodney says, the unspoken _safe here with me_ hovering between them.

Stepping up closer still and squeezing Rodney’s shoulder just a little tighter, Sheppard looks deeply into Rodney’s eyes. “Rodney, I’ll be fine. I promise. Just trust me. All right?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up in anticipation.

“All right all right,” Rodney mutters unhappily. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like this plan. It’s stupid and you’re very likely to get yourself killed. And if you do? Don’t expect me to shed one tear over you— because I won’t.”

“Of course not, Rodney,” Sheppard says, smiling at him affectionately. “Just be safe okay. Don’t do anything foolish.”

“Right right,” Rodney replies resigned with his fate. “Same to you.”

“I’ll be fine,” John says again, sending him a rakish grin, before letting go of his shoulder and walking off in search of Lorne.

“Fine,” Rodney softly repeats. “Right.”

~*~

And of course it all goes to hell as soon as the Wraith finally show up.

Rodney swallows deeply as he sees at least twenty men on horseback closing in on the ranch.

“Elizabeth,” Rodney whispers loudly. “There’s like twenty men out there! I thought you said there’d be only eight of them?”

“I know. I don’t understand. He must have picked up more men this time, since he didn’t manage to take over the ranch last time,” Elizabeth whispers back.

“Oh, this is wrong wrong wrong. This can’t be happening,” Rodney mumbles. “We’re so going to die.”

“Rodney what are you thinking?” Teyla asks, looking back in his direction.

“Twenty men, Teyla,” Rodney spits out. “We might be able to hold them off long enough from this position, but Sheppard and Ronon-- There’s only seven of them and twenty bad guys. You do the math.”

And Rodney can’t think of this right now. He can’t think of John— out there. There’s never been anything wrong with his imagination and now it’s conjuring up all sorts of doom scenarios in which Rodney will have to give up the ranch and Sheppard will be dead or barely alive— beaten to death or bleeding to death. Perhaps even--

“I’m sure that John will be all right, Rodney,” Teyla says, interrupting his morbid thoughts, a look in her eyes that speaks of wisdom and knowledge and— _ohgod_ , somehow Teyla figured it out. She saw through Rodney and found out how he feels about John and she doesn’t care. And even though Rodney’s lying down in front of a broken window, rifle tightly clutched in his sweaty hands, mere seconds away from aiming his weapon and shooting, he feels relieved somehow, because Teyla knows and he’s no longer alone with his deepest secret.

“Elizabeth Weir!” Someone calls from outside.

“Michael!” Elizabeth yells back.

“Elizabeth, it would be in everyone’s best interest if you’d just come outside. No bloodshed, I promise,” Michael calls out.

“Yeah right, like you spared all those poor people who surrendered over at the Athosian ranch?” Elizabeth spits out venomously. “I just love how you strung them up on those trees, keeping them alive for days until they finally died from lack of water. You’re quite the humanitarian Michael.”

“Ah yes, I was hoping you hadn’t heard of that little incident,” Michael shouts back. “I would love to see you hang, Elizabeth!”

“Not going to happen!” Elizabeth yells, before shoving her rifle through the broken window, aiming and pulling the trigger. A loud crack breaks the silence and is quickly followed by the thump of a body hitting the ground.

“One down,” she says, glancing back at Rodney with a smile on her face.

“You’ll regret this!” Michael shouts, before screaming to his men. “Kill them! Kill them all!”

~*~

That night, the full moon illuminates the –once again- silent ranch. Twelve dead horses are gathered at the edge of the big field behind the house. Lorne’s standing next to them, a torch in hand, waiting for the right time to set the carcasses on fire.

Elizabeth’s outside on the porch, silently looking out over the woods, which seem peaceful as ever, almost as if this violent day hadn’t happened. Teyla and Ronon are keeping her company, no doubt thinking about the two good men they lost out there. Men who have already been buried in the sacred ground next to the house.

But Rodney doesn’t care about any of that right now. He just wants to close his eyes, cover his ears and scream, scream, scream--

It has taken blood, bullets and –as it turns out- a piece of his soul to gain control of the ranch today.

For a moment there, right at the end, he thought he was safe and everything would be okay again. Sheppard and Ronon would emerge from the woods, smiling and waving. And he felt pride and happiness seeping through him, wrapping around him like a comfortable cocoon.

Then he’d looked over to the far side of the field and his heart had stopped. Lorne and Ronon had approached the house quickly and in his arms Ronon carried a limp body. Not just any body. No. A distinct John Sheppard-shaped body.

Right there, right then, Rodney felt his world slow down until he could only hear his own heart thumping in his ears— too loud. Because— _Ohgod, not him. Please not him_.

John had been bleeding all over the place. His normally healthy colour had turned into pale grey. All Rodney could really do was stare as Elizabeth and Teyla shot into action. Elizabeth had immediately sent Lorne into town to go and fetch Carson, the local quack. In the mean time Teyla and Ronon settled John into one of the beds and tended to him. A quick cursory check had revealed a gunshot wound low in his right side. 

The doctor had arrived about two hours later and he had swiftly removed the bullet, cleaning and bandaging the wound as tightly as possible. He refused to leave afterwards, so he could keep an eye on his patient.

That’s how Rodney finds himself sitting next to John’s bed in the company of the doctor who’s keeping up a constant vigil.

“What now?” Rodney asks, unable to sit still as he compulsively wrings his hands together.

“Nothin’ you can do but wait I’m afraid. No major organs have been hit, but he’s lost a lot of blood. It’s possible he lost too much to recover,” the doctor replies sadly.

“Nothing,” Rodney repeats bleakly, before bowing down and resting his too hot forehead on the cool sheets of John’s bed.

“Oh God, this is not happening. This can’t be happening,” he softly whispers. “Please.”

“Are you all right, son?” the doctor asks, his kind eyes observing Rodney from the other side of the bed.

“No,” Rodney moans, without looking up. “I’m not. I told him. I told that idiot that it would be too dangerous. I tried to explain that his half-cocked plan had the potential to blow up in his face. But did he listen? No. Of course not. Because he’s John Sheppard, the invincible Major. Only this time, he did get hurt, didn’t he? And that stupid no-good son of a bitch’d better not think of leaving me—“ he says, his voice hitching. “Do you hear me John?” he whispers, bringing his lips close to John’s ear. “Don’t you dare die on me, because I swear to God, to spite you, I’ll invent some machine to reach up right into heaven and snatch you from whatever angel’s cloud you’re sitting on, no matter how beautiful the winged bimbo is.”

Whether or not John hears him or not is irrelevant as Sheppard picks just that moment to move his head a little and moan out in pain, quickly falling deeper into fever induced sleep again. And Rodney is satisfied, so he settles himself comfortably on the chair, waiting for John to wake up— for a lifetime if he has to.

Carson clears his throat from the other side of the room. “So— what’s a bimbo?” he asks and Rodney suddenly feels like crying.

~*~

“Teyla?” John asks, a little tentatively, interrupting Teyla’s strong clear voice as she’s reading out loud to him— something Rodney taught her as soon as he found out she couldn’t read.

It’s been ten days now since John woke up from his feverish delirium. Apparently he had been floating between life and death for two days, before he regained consciousness again. It had been the oddest thing, because he was still in the middle of counting all his body parts, making sure he wasn’t missing anything, when Rodney’s broad, unhappy and tired face suddenly loomed in his vision, informing him that he would be leaving as soon as John was back on his feet, because— _John was an egocentric maniac who had no consideration for anyone else and if he wanted to stick around on Atlantis, creating little babies with too much and scary hair on their heads, he could just do that on his own, but Rodney wouldn’t be there to see the fur balls grow._

At the time, it had taken a deep growl from Ronon for Rodney to back off, but John hasn’t forgotten and is still not quite sure what brought that lecture on. Sure, he got shot, but—the ranch was saved yes? Isn’t that a good thing?

“Yes?” Teyla asks, patiently waiting for John to focus again as she knows his mind still wanders off now and then. He already feels a lot better then a couple of days ago, and he manages to get around just fine, but right after lunch he always needs to take a nap to relax and gather his thoughts, otherwise he doesn’t make it through the rest of the day without getting sick again.

“Do you think that Rodney is really going to leave?” he asks her, while pulling nervously at the edges of his blanket.

“Yes I do,” she informs him gently. “I’ve seen him going through his saddle bags, reorganizing some of his plans yesterday. I believe he’s planning on leaving any day now.”

“But why?” John softly whines. “I don’t get it. I didn’t ask to be shot. It was that Michael guy— he shot me. And I managed to shoot him back, the only difference being that I had a better aim. It’s not like I could have stopped him from shooting me. It was beyond my control.”

“I don’t think that’s what’s bothering Rodney so much,” Teyla softly says, looking down at her hands.

“Then what?” John asks exasperated.

“Are you planning on staying here, John?” she asks, looking up again, catching his eyes.

“What? What— that has nothing to do with Rodney. Don’t change the subject.” John says, clearly annoyed.

“Are you?” Teyla repeats, not giving in.

“Well—yes, probably— yes. I mean, Elizabeth is a very nice and, not to mention, beautiful woman and I like her. She obviously doesn’t dislike me either and— well, there might be something there— yeah,” he admits, thinking back at Elizabeth’s radiating smile the moment she realised that he had woken from his feverish sleep. “But again, that has nothing to do with Rodney. I fail to see why this is relevant. I’m finally thinking of settling down with someone. Of all things, that should make him happy, since he’s my best friend.”

“Maybe both things are closer related then you know,” Teyla says softly, standing up to lean against the window sill. Ronon is out there— John can hear him, chopping up wood and Teyla doesn’t take her eyes of him— not even once.

“How?” John asks, more confused then ever. “How can both possibly be related? Does he want Elizabeth for himself?”

And this is something that John hasn’t contemplated before. Maybe his best friend is pining for the woman he’s in love with. Maybe that’s the reason he’s leaving. But Rodney has never shown any interest in her— or any other woman before that. Has he?

Teyla shakes her head a little, a wry little smile settles on her lips as she turns back to John. “You have to be the blindest man I’ve ever met, John Sheppard,” she says affectionately. “Or perhaps you are just afraid to open your eyes and see what’s there, right in front of you. It is not my place to provide you with answers, but think about this: Rodney McKay has followed you from when you were very young. Sure, he has complained every step of the way— but through it all, he was there, by your side. Why John? Why would he do that? Think about it. Why?” she adds in an urgent tone.

“I don’t know,” John softly answers, afraid to look at her, knowing that she can read him better then anyone else. Knowing that, if he looks at her right now, she’ll be able to see the truth written in his eyes— _I know I know I know_ and he’s not ready for that. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be.

“Then, John, you don’t deserve him as a friend and I hope he’ll be able to forget all about you as soon as possible, so he can start living again,” she says sadly, before she picks up the book and settles in the chair again. “Shall we continue our reading Major?”

Teyla never calls him Major and he realises that he just lost here. For one, Teyla’s respect and secondly-- a last chance perhaps? A last chance to come to terms with— No. It’s best not to think about it. Best not to acknowledge what has always been there, lurking at the edges of his mind. It wouldn’t lead anywhere good anyway, just to pain and awkwardness, because it’s so dead wrong wrong wrong— The mere idea of it is—perfect, but _ohso_ wrong.

So, he sighs deeply, settles back a little more comfortably against his pillows, turns his head away from Teyla and softly answers. “Please.”

He’s going to let Rodney go and he’s going to be happy for him. His friend will be able to go to school and learn new exciting things. He’ll get a proper education this time, so it’s for the best really. All for the best. As long as he keeps telling himself that, he might just actually believe it one day. Someday.


	3. Chapter 3

**BOSTON, Massachusetts**

** August, 1873 **

One year, four months, twenty-two days, five hours, seventeen minutes and thirteen seconds. That’s how long Rodney’s been in Boston. Coincidently –or not- that’s also how long Rodney’s been pretending that he doesn’t desperately miss John Sheppard, because he really doesn’t. Honestly.

Yeah, he never was really good at lying— especially not to himself.

After he had decided to leave, it didn’t take Rodney very long to gather all his courage and take that final step of walking out on John. The last time he had seen his friend, John was standing on the porch of Atlantis, next to the front door, leaning against one of the beams, obviously favoring his good side. And it had actually physically hurt Rodney to walk away from him, but he did it nonetheless. There was no future for him at John’s side and Rodney suspected that Elizabeth would be taking up that position in the Major’s life very soon after Rodney’s departure.

As soon as Rodney had arrived in Boston, he’d felt right at home. The second day after his arrival, he had immediately searched out Professor Radek Zelenka, an immigrant who hadn’t been in Boston all that long, but who had a good and trustworthy reputation in scientific circles.

Radek was married to Laura Cadman -the daughter of a wealthy entrepreneur- who had just found out that she was with child. The first time Rodney met Radek and his wife, they had looked disgustingly happy together, holding hands under the table and calling each other by ridiculous pet names— it made Rodney want to claw out his eyes, pierce his eardrums and draw a mathematical schematic about how many marriages were built on lies and deceit. 

And no, he wasn’t bitter about losing John-- not at all.

At first, Zelenka had been a bit sceptical when Rodney showed him his wild and improbable plans to create flying machines and special boats that could travel underwater for long periods of time. But Laura had been wildly enthusiastic about Rodney’s ideas and had managed to convince Radek to hear him out.

Rodney freely admitted to the scientist that he had been a child prodigy—a genius today, but without any form of formal education, so he still had a lot to learn and was planning on taking classes at the local university. The only problem being that he wouldn’t be able to get in without the support from a known and well-respected scientist.

Zelenka saw potential in Rodney and –under slight duress of his wife- had agreed to support Rodney’s application for the university. A few weeks later Rodney was fully admitted and enjoyed each and every minute he spent in the library, reading and studying eagerly. He loved attending the Physics lectures, even though –in his opinion- most of the professors hadn’t a clue what they were talking about. Soon, Rodney became their own personal terror as he questioned their every statement and clearly stated what he thought of their moronically backward theories.

Today, Rodney finds himself having lunch with –his now good friend- Radek, while they discuss Physics of the highest level. Radek, as it turns out, is a very perceptive man and suddenly, out of the blue he confronts Rodney with a question he’s not quite sure how to answer.

“Rodney,” he says. “I have question for you. You have chance to work with the biggest minds in country and yet you don’t seem to be very happy. What is wrong my friend?”

Clearing his throat, Rodney looks down at the table, attempting to buy himself some time. After all, how do you explain to your _new_ friend that you miss your _oldest_ friend so much that it almost feels as if you’re missing one of your limbs.

“I--” he finally says. “It-- It’s nothing, Radek, I just— miss something.”

“Something?” Radek repeats.

“ _Someone_ really— just someone,” he admits, looking straight at Radek.

“This someone is special to you, yes?” Radek asks, smiling gently at him.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Rodney says softly. “The most special and stubborn person I’ve ever known.”

“Perhaps you would be happier if you could be with this person,” Radek suggests. “I know that if I didn’t have my dearest Laura by my side every day, I’d be lost forever.”

Rodney chuckles softly. “I wish it was that easy Radek. You and Laura have this fairytale love, but mine is one fairytale that won’t have a happy ending I’m afraid. It’s very complicated,” he says. “Besides, I’ll get over it. After all, it’s like you said— people here are finally beginning to appreciate my utter genius and it’s about time too,” he adds, puffing out his chest.

Radek bursts out in a hiccupping laugh at that. “Ah, Rodney, you are one of a kind. Don’t ever change.” He abruptly stops laughing when he sees his friend’s face fall at that last comment.

“Rodney?” he asks.

“It’s okay, Radek. That last thing you said just reminded me of something someone else told me-- a long time ago,” Rodney assures him.

“That special someone perhaps?” Radek asks.

“Yeah,” Rodney admits, before breathing in deeply. “But look at us, talking about psychology when we should be discussing real science instead.”

“Sometimes the soft sciences are more important then Physics, my friend,” Radek says, smiling at Rodney.

“Yeah well—not to me, Radek. I’ll never let anything distract me from reaching my dream again. Never,” Rodney says, a little bitter, before drawing Radek’s attention back at the plans of the flying machine, clearly indicating that the discussion is closed.

Radek just stares at Rodney for a moment, sighs deeply and mutters something incomprehensible in Czech before fully focusing on Rodney’s plans again.

~*~

“-- And thus this experiment concludes that my plan to create a fully functional airborne vehicle is viable. The only thing I need right now is funds to actually make a prototype. I will not lie, gentlemen— and lady,” Rodney says, nodding quickly at Miss Anderson, a well-known benefactress of many scientists in Boston. “This will not be a cheap endeavour, but the results will be more then worth it. Think of a world where you would be able to reach another continent in mere hours instead of days. Not to mention— never being seasick again and having to throw up the entire contents of your stomach, which is a nasty business and can cause potentially fatal diseases too— but that’s not entirely relevant right now,” he awkwardly ends his presentation. “So, are there any questions?”

Rodney has been nervous as hell ever since early this morning, while he was getting ready for the presentation of his flying machine to the city’s wealthiest people. If they like the idea he will have enough money to actually attempt to build the machine. Of course, it will take years to develop anything that can actually fly, but it’ll be so worth every second of research.

The presentation had taken up about an hour and a half and now he’s just standing there, behind the pulpit, waiting for a reaction from the audience— any reaction. Even rotten tomatoes hurled at his face would be better then the all-compassing silence that has taken over the room. He glances nervously at Zelenka, who’s sitting in the front row. Radek’s looking around as he fidgets with the lapels of his suit. Then Laura –who’s sitting next to him- grabs his hands and holds them still against her pregnant belly.

Terrifying images of people laughing and mocking him start running through Rodney’s head and maybe this wasn’t the brightest of his ideas, but Radek had fully approved and that counts for something right?

Rodney closes his eyes and concentrates on his breathing, determined to just walk off the stage in dignity before the mocking starts. He’s just about to move when—

“Excuse me, Mister McKay, I have a question?” someone in the audience suddenly speaks up and—

In the blink of an eye, Rodney’s eyes are wide open, because he knows that voice. He’d know that voice anywhere and anytime. Quickly he scans the room, searching for that familiar shock of dark hair, that rakish grin and those—

“John,” he says stupidly, as he finds himself rooted to the ground, staring straight into those hazel eyes he missed so much. And it suddenly hits him full on-- _ohgod_ , he missed Sheppard.

John’s standing at the back of the hall, clean-shaved and wearing a fancy new outfit—black of course. He’s fidgeting with the new hat that he’s holding in his hands, grinning at him like a maniac, while everyone in the room stares at him curiously.

“That’s three times now, McKay,” he says a little breathlessly.

It takes Rodney a second to understand what John’s talking about and then he feels his face flush. A little desperate he tries to gain some control over his bodily functions again. He’s standing in front of the richest Bostonians and he’s acting like a fourteen-year old girl with a crush. This’ll simply not do. It’s time to act more professional.

“You had a question?” he squeaks.

“Yeah,” John says, still beaming at him. “I was wondering. Once you’ve built that flying machine of yours, can I be the first one to try it out?”

“Excuse me?” Rodney splutters, forgetting momentarily that there are other people in the room. “Try it out? This contraption hasn’t even been built and you’re already talking about trying it out? Do you ever think before risking your life? You do realise, if this thing crashes, I’ll be the one responsible for your death?”

“Well— ye-ah,” John drawls, staring straight at him. “But, it won’t crash. After all, if you’re going to build it, it’ll be solid and strong. No way you’d ever make any mistakes. I’ve seen you create some amazing things before and I trust you to always do a good job.”

“But—“ Rodney begins before he’s interrupted by Miss Anderson.

“Mister McKay, I have to admit that I was -and still am- sceptical about this, but as both Doctor Zelenka and the kind gentleman in the back vouch for you-- I can also see great merit in this project of yours,” she says, turning briefly to nod at Radek and then John. “I for one, wouldn’t be opposed to getting to my destination a lot faster and without seasickness. So therefore I’ve decided to grant you an amount of money on a yearly basis. Go ahead and build this—flying machine.”

As if on cue, the whole hall bursts out in applause and all Rodney can do is just stand there and take it in. It’s funny, but he thought it would be his biggest accomplishment ever and that it would make him the happiest man alive— and he is happy, but not because of the money, but because John Sheppard is slowly making his way to the stage, sporting the most peculiar grin.

Suddenly Radek’s in front of him pumping his hand like a madman, muttering in Czech, praising and congratulating him. Then Laura’s there, flinging her arms around his neck, hugging him close, whispering in his ear that she knew he could do it. Rodney wraps his arms around her, her belly pressing against him, as he closes his eyes and breathes in her unique scent. He would have been nowhere without the influence of this woman and for that he’ll be forever grateful.

Holding on to Laura, Rodney looks back up, eagerly anticipating Sheppard. Only— this time John hasn’t come any closer. He’s just standing there, in the middle of the hall, staring at Rodney with a stricken look on his face, as if he has seen a ghost. And what happened to the madly grinning Major from only a few seconds ago?

Rodney sees how John swallows deeply as he tilts his head to the side for a moment-–something he only does when he’s out of his depth and he hasn’t a clue how to react.

And what—

That’s how far that thought goes, because right then John looks back at him, some unknown emotion flickering in his eyes— disappointment perhaps? Rodney can’t tell, because he’s certain that he’s never seen John so shocked before. Or maybe he has? A memory resurfaces— the darkened porch of Atlantis Ranch, John’s hands on his face, his eyes locked onto his as he kissed him and--

In a heartbeat it all becomes clear, because for a brief moment John’s eyes flicker from Rodney to Laura, who’s now standing next to Rodney, still clinging to his arm, and back again.

And it’s clear now. It’s all so vividly clear. Rodney feels like singing out loud—screaming from the top of his lungs that he _understands_. How did he miss this? He’s a genius, so how could he have possibly missed this? All this time— all the waiting and hoping while John has been doing the exact same thing, only a lot more inconspicuously.

“Rodney,” Zelenka suddenly interrupts. “Are you okay?”

Blinking stupidly, Rodney briefly glances back at Radek. He’s only distracted for a millisecond, but by the time he looks back it’s too late. The place where John had been is empty and the doors of the hall slam shut.

“God no,” Rodney says, panicking rapidly, because wouldn’t this be the biggest anticlimax ever?

“Rodney?” Radek repeats as Rodney finally focuses on his friend, who’s curiously studying him.

“Who was that man?” he asks.

“John,” Rodney says, unable to explain any further.

“That him?” Radek asks, smiling gently, while Laura pretends not to eavesdrop.

“What?” Rodney says, blinking again, breathing harshly—because he’s never going to see John again. And _oh_ did he screw up this time.

“He is your fairytale— your happily ever after. No?” Radek asks.

Rodney doesn’t want to lie anymore, so he sucks in a deep ragged breath and just says: “Yeah. He is.”

“Then what are you standing here for? Go after him, you idiot,” Radek urges him on. “I will deal with Miss Anderson on your behalf.”

And it’s stupid. He should just let John go. Let him think that Laura’s his pregnant wife, because it could never work out. They’d be fighting and bickering all the time, getting on each other’s nerves. They’d have to hide and— oh, who is he trying to kid. It’s John and there hasn’t been one day in his life that he hasn’t been madly in love with him, and it looks like this time, they’re in it together.

So, with a quick goodbye to Radek and Laura, he races out of the building, his mind going ten miles a second, already calculating which way Sheppard could have gone and—apparently not so far as he’s slouching against the wall in the alley next to the building, studiously ignoring all the hustle and bustle on the street as he studies the ground from underneath the brim of his hat. He’s found a secluded corner and is almost out of sight, but he can’t hide from Rodney. Not anymore.

Cautiously Rodney walks up to him, clearing his throat, before he says:

“Major?”

John quickly looks up and adjusts his posture by straightening up. “McKay,” he says, his voice a little rough. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah--,” Rodney says. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Ah— congratulations,” Sheppard offers, taking off his hat and dragging his hand through his hair.

“What for?” Rodney asks, a little confused.

“You know— with the funding and –uhm- the—“ John stops, breathing harshly, almost forcing himself to look up and catch Rodney’s eyes. “—the wife and the baby,” he mutters, looking away dejectedly.

Rodney just chuckles lightly before he starts laughing in earnest. God, they’re both such idiots-- because he knows that look in John’s eyes. He’s seen it a thousand times when he looks in the mirror. It’s like this is some crazy alternate world where John, instead of Rodney, is hung up on his best friend, pretending to be happy for him as he seems to have found a woman to love.

And Rodney’s fed up with this. For months now, he’s been trying to forget about the Major. Doing his best to stop imagining John’s face and body at night when he’s alone in bed. He’s been trying so hard to let go of those pesky loving feelings and then John shows up and all his hard work crumbles to dust, because it’s John and he’s here and he clearly missed Rodney. So, screw it all. If he’s wrong about this, he’ll just live with the consequences, but there’s no way he’s going to let the moment pass.

He quickly grabs John’s left hand and cradles it in his palm, while his other hand goes up to cup John’s cheek. All the while his eyes are firmly locked onto John’s, not surprised to see John’s eyes grow wide as Rodney takes a step closer until he’s plastered against his chest. He brings his face closer until they’re breathing the same air.

“If you don’t want this,” Rodney whispers, as puffs of breath brush against John’s lips. “Now is the time to stop me.”

A beat passes where John’s wide surprised eyes just stare back at him, but he doesn’t move an inch. His left hand clutches Rodney’s hand a little tighter and then he closes the gap.

Their mouths bump briefly, lips pressed together tightly, before John pulls back again, staring back at Rodney, his eyebrows moving up his forehead in that familiar expression Rodney knows so well.

“You sure?” John asks.

“Never been more sure about anything in my life,” Rodney states firmly.

“Good,” John says, a smile breaking through, as he slowly leans in again and –with slightly parted lips- kisses Rodney. Rodney’s eyes flutter closed as he opens his mouth and invites John in. John takes advantage of that as he slowly strokes his tongue against Rodney’s, softly nipping at his lips when he comes up for breath, pressing tiny kisses across Rodney’s chin and cheeks.

And Rodney had always suspected that he and John would be good together, but never in a million years had he expected to feel this kind of scorching heat between them from a simple kiss.

“God, Rodney,” John says, rubbing his cheek against Rodney’s, whispering in his ear. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“You have?” Rodney asks, pulling back a little, because he wants to see John’s face for this.

“I have,” John says, looking back at him, bringing up his hand to clasp the back of Rodney’s neck as he brings their foreheads together. “I’m not good at this, Rodney. I’m pretty bad at talking about how I—feel, but I want you to know that I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time now,” he admits, closing his eyes. “But every time I got close— I just froze up and started making up all these pathetic excuses in my head why it would be a very bad idea. I kept telling myself it was wrong to feel like I did and convinced myself I was in love with Elizabeth,” he prattles on. “But then you left and— nothing was the same. I talked to Teyla a lot and I just— I came to realise that—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Rodney admonishes him gently. “You’re here now. You made the right choice in the end.”

“Am I too late?” John asks, pressing his forehead a little closer.

“What makes you ask that?” Rodney asks.

“That woman earlier, on the stage with you. She hugged you and she was— with child,” John says a little hesitantly.

“Laura?” Rodney chuckles. “Yes, she’s very pregnant, but I think Radek – _her husband_ \- would kill me if the kid turned out to be mine.”

“Radek? She’s married?” John asks clearly relieved.

“Yeah, very happily too,” Rodney says.

“Oh,” John just says, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes, oh,” Rodney repeats, unable to resist pressing his mouth softly to the corner of John’s mouth to feel that grin coming to full bloom underneath his lips. He’s been waiting to do that ever since that skinny pointy-eared boy showed up in that orchard in Branson, Missouri. Only—

“John?” he murmurs against John’s lips.

“Yeah?” John murmurs back, nipping at Rodney’s lower lip.

“You here to stay?”

Pulling back a few inches, John looks straight in Rodney’s eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good,” Rodney says, scowling at him a little. “It’s time you got a little invested in my dream too. I’ve been following you around for years, living your dream while traipsing through the wilderness, catching who knows how many diseases from all those filthy bugs. Not to mention the poor quality of the food. That bushy-haired caveman could only catch rabbits and fish and everybody knows it’s unhealthy to always eat the same kind of food. We are lucky we didn’t die from the lack of sufficient minerals. I actually read an interesting article about that recently— You know what minerals are right? And _ohgod_ let’s not forget the horrible flea-infested bedrolls that could—“

“Rodney!” John shouts, interrupting his tirade, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Really—“

“What?” Rodney replies indignantly, pulling away his hands, crossing them in front of his chest while sticking out his chin. “I’ll have you know Major that it would have been all your fault if a genius like myself would have perished in the wild. Humanity would have never recovered from such a loss.”

“Seriously, Rodney,” John says, barking out a loud laugh. “Don’t ever change.”

This time Rodney doesn’t have time to answer, because John just tugs him closer again and stops all his bitching, moaning and complaining right at the source by pressing his lips tightly against Rodney’s. And really, Rodney’s a big enough man to let it go— for now.

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I'm not an American, so I had to ask a lot of questions and do some research to find out some stuff about America in the 19th century. If there are any historical mistakes left in this fic, blame it on the author's liberty of writing what she wants to write.**


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